


Funny Meeting You Here

by 1MissMolly



Series: The White Room Club [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1MissMolly/pseuds/1MissMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond goes looking for a companion for the evening but finds something he never expected. His quartermaster in the arms of another man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Meeting You Here

**Author's Note:**

> For Alwaysinneedoftea. Enjoy, Sorry I probable shouldn't write when I'm depressed.

Funny Seeing You Here

James Bond had an itch that needed scratching. He didn’t normally come here to this club, he really couldn’t. But tonight he decided to take a risk. He wanted to find a submissive tonight. A one time thing. Just a mutual enjoyment of giving and taking without further commitments. 

Bond had been using the services of a private bondage club called the White Room. There was a wonderful blonde submissive there named Pretty. She had pale gold hair and sea green eyes. Her pale skin held the color of his marks beautifully. Lately, though, she had become too needy. Wanting more than he was capable of giving. When he asked for another submissive, Pretty appeared outside the door of guest room begging forgiveness. 

He needed someone who wouldn’t ask questions. Not pry about scars on his skin. Not ask for larger commitment than he could give. 

So here he was here at this club, listening to the loud music, looking for that one special person. Male or female, he didn’t care, just that one person who would give him what he needed. The prospects tonight were poor. Several subs had made eye contact with the agent, but he was not impressed with them. Then he saw him on the dance floor. 

A man, thin, young, intriguing. Most of the dancers looked like puppets with their strings cut, this man moved like sex incarnate. His hips glided in slow undulating movements, his back and arms were long and graceful. Bond had not seen his face yet, but he was hungry for him. The young man wore a black shirt and dark trousers. His skin appeared pale, almost translucent in the club lights. His hair was dark tussle of curls, wild and long. 

Bond pushed himself away from the bar and made his way to the edge of the dance floor. He stood watching the boy. Yes he thought, he would be joining the young man in the private rooms of the club tonight.

 He took a step closer, when the boy turned around. Bond recognized the profile immediately. The high cheek bones, the thick framed glasses, that sexy mole just above his jaw line. Q.

 _‘Q! Q? What the hell is my quartermaster doing at a place like this?’_ Bond thought to himself. Bond stood back and stepped into the shadows. Watching his quartermaster bring his arms down over the shoulders of smaller blonde man. He leaned in and kissed the man. So Q was gay then. ‘ _He wouldn’t be adverse to advances from another man, good’_ Bond thought. The agent couldn’t see the other man’s face, but if Q liked blondes, all the better.

Then it became clear to Bond, Q would be the perfect partner for him. He wouldn’t ask questions about Bond’s scars and history because he had been there. He had watched over Bond, cared for him. Protected him. Bond trusted him with his life. He believed Q would trust him. It would be perfect. Q could be just what Bond wanted. He took a step out of the shadows toward the dance floor. 

The smaller blonde's hand reached up and wrapped his fingers around Q’s throat. Q stilled and stared into the man’s eyes. Bond watched in amazement as Q quickly became submissive. The smaller man squeezed tighter on Q’s throat, the fingers digging into Q’s flesh, his skin starting to red. Q leaned forward and kissed the man again. The hand was pulled away, and the couple turn and walk off the dance floor. Bond watched as they walk to the door leading to the private rooms of the BDSM club. 

The smaller blonde had his hand on the small of Q’s back as they walked up to the door. The bouncer on the door nodded to the two men and let them pass. Bond quickly crossed the club and came up to the bouncer. 

“Sir?” The burly man turned to Bond.

“My friends just went in. I’m supposed to meet them in there.”

“Your friends?”

“They just went in, the thin dark haired man with glasses.”

The man smiled at Bond. “Don’t worry your friend is with the Doctor. He will be find. The Doctor is very good.”

Bond took a step to the side, when he felt another bouncer’s hand on his shoulder. “Sir, is there a problem?”

“No, no problem. Good night.” Bond turned away from the door. He couldn’t take on two bouncers in a down town London BDSM club. It was a sure way to end up in Psych for a month. He would have to approach Q later.

*****

It was after lunch the following day, when Bond stepped into TSS. He strode straight up to Q’s work bench. The young techno geek was busy with his computers, ignoring the world around him. Bond stood beside the man for over a minute before Q paused and turned to him. 

“Afternoon Bond, may I help you?”

“No just wondering how you are? Busy night?”

“Not really.” The young man returned Bond’s gaze.

“I’m sure you were tied up with something. Whipping yourself up to get the job done.” Bond smirked.

Q cocked his head to the side, “Bond, I’m sure you are trying to say something to me, but your meaning is escaping me.” 

He twisted back and Bond saw the bruises on the back of his neck. A thin small line. The buckle from a collar. The man had put a collar on Q last night. He had Q with a collar on! Bond’s pulse quickened, as he reached forward and grabbed Q’s wrist. 

“You shouldn’t pick strangers up at clubs like that. It’s dangerous. You should go to someone who knows you, who will take care of you.” He whispered into Q’s ear. 

“Bond what are you talking about?” Q whispered back. His features hardening. “Were you there last night?”

A smirk slipped to Bond’s lips. 

“Damn it Bond, did you follow me to the club?”

“No I was there on my own. I was thinking we should explore a new dimension to our relationship. Maybe tonight we can talk about it over dinner.”

“Oh were you?” Q smirked back. “No thank you. I will be busy tonight. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m busy most nights.”

Bond stepped back confused. 

*****

Bond followed Q from his flat to the Lambeth North Tube station. He sat in the carriage behind the one Q got into and waited. The Bakerloo train rattled down the tunnels, crowded with the evening rush. Q got out at Marylebone station, followed by the agent. Once up on street level, Q headed east to Gloucester Place and then down Dorset Close. 

There standing on the pavement was the blonde man from the club. Black wool coat with shooter’s patches and blue jeans. Bond still could not see his face but there was something familiar about him. Q hugged the man and the two walked into the pub. Bond followed them in and took a seat at the bar where he could watch them without being seen. The two men were sitting in a booth, side by side. The bar maid brought them both pints and bowl of crisps. The two sat and talked ignoring the working class clientele of the pub. 

Bond watched Q. He was different here from the man he knew from TSS. He was smiling and laughing. His face creased with happiness as his hazel eye shone brightly. Bond had never seen Q smile before. It was quite lovely. His pale skin took on a pale pink blush, his ridiculously dark lips pulled back to barely revealing his white teeth. His dark curls shook as he jerked his head looking at the telly. Q looked even more innocent than before. Elfin in fact. Bond sat watching the man he had worked with for two years, realizing he really didn’t know him very well. What made him laugh, what did he like to do, did he like dancing often, did he like the clubs? Could Bond make him laugh like that? Could he get to see those bright eyes shine at him too? 

Two more men walked up to the table. A tall average built man with salt and pepper gray hair. His skin was tan and his eyes were sad. The second man was shorter and pudgy. A soft round face, thinning hair and glasses. Both men shook Q’s hand and then sat down with them in the booth. More pints were brought and the four men started paying attention to the match on the telly. Cheering and shouting with the crowd. 

This was definitely not the environment Bond expected to find is Quartermaster in. He watched the four men laughing and talking, interested in the match, as Bond slowly nursed his beer. By the third round of pints, Bond noticed the blonde stand and head to the loo. Bond slipped off his bar stool and follow the man out. Maybe he could corner the man in the stall and frighten him away from Q. 

The man slipped into the single seater, locking the door and leaving Bond standing outside the door. Bond looked around being sure Q had not seen him yet, when the door opened and the shorter man stepped out. 

“Bond?!” The agent turned and looked into a familiar face. Blonde hair going gray, dark blue eyes, round face, friendly. The Doctor. He knew this face. Salzburg. The assistant to that arrogant detective, Holmes. The assistant, the doctor, Dr. John Watson. 

“Dr. Watson, what a surprise.” The doctor looked around. 

“Ah yeah, funny seeing you here. Not your typical haunt is it.”

“No just came in to use the facilities.”

“Oh well, nice to see you. Later.” The doctor turned and walked off. As he reached the table he leaned over and whispered into Q’s ear. The young man’s eyes shot up and stared a Bond. His face set in an angry scowl. 

Bond disappeared into the loo, trying to think of a plausible lie to tell Q for his presences this far afield for him. When he step out, Watson and Q were gone. The two other men still sat at the table, yelling at the telly, regarding a call made by the ref. 

Bond zipped up his wind cheater and headed to the door, when his mobile chimed a text message.

‘My office 0830 tomorrow. Have a good excuse.’ –Q

Bond sighed. There really was no excuse.

*****

Bond skipped the meeting. It was obvious Q was furious, no reason to stand there and be berated by the whelp. Bond went down to the gym and was working out with a punching bag when Q came marching in at 1050. 

Q looked around and saw the agent, his face strained in its tightness. He stepped up to the punching bag and looked at the aid holding it still for Bond. “Leave us now.” 

The aid looked over at Bond in confusion. 

“I said now!” Q voice a deep whisper of controlled anger. Bond nodded to the man and he thankfully left. Turning to Bond, Q said, “You purposefully missed our meeting this morning.”

“Yes, I knew what you were going to say. Why see you when all you’re going to do is accuse me of spying?”

“Yes spying, that’s what you do. Dr. Watson and I are seeing each other, it is not your business or that of MI6. Do I make myself clear?”

“That was pretty fast work on your part. Salzburg was only two months ago.”

“I’ve known Dr. Watson for almost two years.”

Bond’s eyebrows raised. “Two years? You didn’t mention that during any of the briefings. Why?”

Q shook his head slightly, his anger caused him to slip up. “I . . . we were friends, acquaintances, then after Salzburg, we met up and decided to start dating.”

“Exclusively?”

“Of course.” Q looked closely at the man. “Bond, John is not like you. He has been very good to me. He has patience and caring. He listens and more importantly, he is someone who wants more than a one time thing. We are in a relationship.”

Bond felt slapped by the words. _‘Someone who wants more than a one time thing.’_ He suddenly realized a relationship with Q would have been more. He deserved more. Bond wanted more. 

“Q, I think you have underestimated me.”

“Yes, I did. Do not follow John and me again.” Q turned and left. 

*****

John Watson rushed up the stairs of the National Gallery heading the second level. He received the text only half an hour earlier, but he was very confused. 

‘Room 41, National Gallery,’-Q

He was confused because Peter, Q’s real name, had told him he would be in meetings all day and unable to meet him for lunch. John hurried through the Impressionist wing and into Room 41, The Academy. The room was small with only a few paintings hanging on the oak paneled walls. A class of young bored teenagers were being escorted through the room by their teacher who looked positively haggard by the experience. 

The school children left and the room fell silent. John sat down on the bench where he could see both doors leading into the room and waited. The man who walked into the room was not who John expected. The dark wool coat, the leather gloves, the blonde hair. John straightened his back and clenched his fists. His eyes quickly darting to the other door. 

“Don’t worry doctor, I do not plan on harming you today.” Bond said in a conversational tone. 

“Today?”

“Yes.” Bond walked pass John and up to one of the painting on the wall. ‘The Execution of Lady Jane Grey’. “Such a beautiful painting for such a despicable act. The beheading of an innocent.” John stood up and walked over to Bond’s side. “You know she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn’t want to be Queen. She didn’t want to die for something she didn’t even believe in.”

“Yeah sad.” John was looking at Bond not the painting.

“I have found innocent often trust people they shouldn’t. Look at how beautiful she is. I mean you can’t really see her face, but still look at her, pale skin, dark red lips, fragile, delicate, black hair.”

“Her hair is auburn, Bond.” John said. 

“Oh yes, my mistake. Auburn hair or black, still an innocent. It was the ones who lead her astray that should have been executed.”

“I think they were, weren’t they?” John said knowing how this conversation was going. 

“I would make sure I would kill those who would harm an innocent.”

“I’m sure you would. Now let’s talk about why you really asked me here.”

“Q is a remarkable man. I simply want to see him treated with the respect and reverence he deserves.”

“Reverence?” John shifted his weight back. “Q is very important to me. He is my first and foremost concern. I plan on making Q happy for the rest of his life, if he will let me. I would never do anything intentionally to harm Q. Never.”

Bond stood for a moment staring at the doctor. “I’m glad we agree.” He turned back to the painting. “I think we can agree that Q is priceless.”

“Yes.”

The two men stood quietly for a moment. Then Bond reached into his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone. “Here. Q will want this back.” Bond turned and walked away from the doctor and the painting. Wondering through the rooms, he paused in the English room. There was the painting again. The Turner. He went and sat down in front of it. The orange red sun setting on the old ship. The wash of blue in the background. What had Q said, _‘Always makes me a little melancholy.”_ Yes, melancholy was right. An old ship being hauled away. Bond felt so tired.


End file.
